


Strange Powers

by sidnihoudini



Series: Luca Willam Lecter [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you don’t want this one,” Will confirms, holding up the kid’s sized lion costume one more time.</p><p>On the semi-dirty tiled floor in front of him, Luca shakes his head and reiterates, “I want the horns.”</p><p>“Of course you do,” Will sighs, putting the cute, fuzzy, age appropriate Halloween outfit back into the overstocked rack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Powers

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a silly little thing. I love kid fic, and I had to indulge myself by writing some with Hannibal and Will. Also Halloween! All my favorite things.
> 
> Also come say hi on tumblr! I'm always accepting prompts.
> 
> <http://bonedaddies.tumblr.com>

“So you don’t want this one,” Will confirms, holding up the kid’s sized lion costume one more time.

On the semi-dirty tiled floor in front of him, Luca shakes his head and reiterates, “I want the horns.”

“Of course you do,” Will sighs, putting the cute, fuzzy, age appropriate Halloween outfit back into the overstocked rack.

The lion’s mane pokes out regardless, taunting him from its position between two sparkly Disney princess costumes. Hannibal is going to kill him for shopping at Walmart again, Will thinks. He looks down at the dark red fabric still clenched in his son’s tiny hands, and smirks. At least if he comes home with a devil costume for the five year old, Hannibal might crack a smile despite the cheap fabric.

“Should we get papa an outfit, too?” Will asks, hunching over as he resumes pushing the shopping cart with his elbows.

Luca stops trying to peel the plastic horns out of their industrious packaging long enough to look up at Will with a horrified, yet faintly amused expression on his face.

“No way daddy,” He replies, scandalized. Luca shakes his head and then dissolves into laughter when Will points out an adult hot dog costume hanging on the next rack. Will can’t help himself from laughing, too, imagining Hannibal’s skeleton legs poking out of the oversized plastic buns.

As they make their way down the remaining Halloween aisles, Will volleys a couple of mega sized boxes of chocolate bars into the cart, and then scoops Luca up into one arm as they break back out into the toy section. Will has refined many talents over the last few years, he thinks, and they include but are not limited to pushing a shopping cart one-handed.

Luca keeps his face pressed against the side of Will’s neck as they check out, suddenly embarrassed to be seen by anyone at all. It takes a second to maneuver successfully, but Will manages to flip his wallet open with one hand, and then awkwardly pass his credit card over from where it’s pinched between his pointer and middle fingers.

“Happy Halloween sweetie,” The cashier says as the credit card runs, shaking the toe of Luca’s shoe a little before she hands him a pumpkin sticker. Luca turns to accept the gift, and manages a wide smile before he remembers he’s embarrassed, and turns back into the warm fabric of Will’s jacket. As the cashier hands Will his copy of the receipt, she announces, “He’s cute.”

Will manages a half smile as he picks their bags up, and leaves with a genuine, “Thanks,” over his shoulder.

~

When they get home, Hannibal is already there and unloading pumpkins out of the trunk of his own car.

“Daddy daddy daddy,” Luca chants from the back seat, wiggling his legs against his car seat as they pull down the gravel driveway unsteadily. Will has no idea how Luca has already managed to zero in on Hannibal and the contents of his trunk, despite the fact he sometimes doesn’t realize he’s only wearing one sock. “Those are pumpkins, daddy.”

The matter of fact tone Luca uses makes Will smile, as they pull in next to Hannibal’s car. He replies, “They sure are. What are you gonna carve in yours?”

“A dog,” Luca replies immediately, before he backtracks and changes his answer to, “Maybe a bat. A scary face!”

Laughing, Will kills the engine and grabs his empty coffee cup. He agrees, “All very good ideas.”

By the time he’s collected the day’s various paraphernalia from around the front seat, Hannibal has finished moving the last of the pumpkins, and is opening Will’s car door for him instead.

“Papa!” Luca claps again, grinning widely as Hannibal stoops down low enough to see into the back seat.

Hannibal accepts the travel mug and children’s knapsack he’s handed by Will, and replies, “Hello, my darling boys.”

“You going for the title of pumpkin king this year or something?” Will asks, climbing out of the front seat.

Once he’s on his feet, he smirks up at Hannibal and then leans in for a quick kiss. Hannibal’s mouth tastes like secret shame aka fake pumpkin syrup, which adds further evidence to Will’s suspicion that Hannibal is really just a basic white girl.

Hannibal’s cheekbones show more of his smile than his mouth does. He leans down again, and presses a warm kiss to the side of Will’s head before he lets Will pass to unbuckle Luca from the back seat.

“I was asked to get pumpkins,” Hannibal sighs, recalling the request that came alongside last night’s dinner. He watches Luca’s face as it lights up at Hannibal’s words, and adds, “Many, many pumpkins.”

Now relieved of his car seat, Luca jumps down into the driveway gravel and confirms, “So many pumpkins!”

“And what do you think about our selection?” Hannibal asks, resting his free hand on Luca’s head, and pointing towards where the army of pumpkins sits on their front steps with the other. It’s an obscene amount, Will thinks, two per step, leading all the way up to the massive wooden front doors, where another four sit on the porch railing. Hannibal arches an eyebrow, and adds, “Shall they suffice?”

Luca claps his hands together again and cackles, clearly delighted in how his dinnertime request has come to fruition.

“Thank you papa,” He manages, wrapping both arms around Hannibal’s legs in a valiant effort to bestow a hug before he takes off towards the pumpkins.

They both watch as he manages to slow down right before he hits the bottom step. He sits down carefully beside one of the largest pumpkins, and raises one hand to pet the top curve carefully.

“Guess who isn’t retiring to his office while I carve thirty fucking pumpkins at the request of a five year old?” Will asks, arching one eyebrow in Hannibal’s direction. He belatedly uses the key fob to pop the trunk.

Clearly entertained by the idea alone, Hannibal wraps his arms around Will from behind and presses his nose into the warmest spot where Will’s neck meets the angle of his shoulder. Will squirms, expecting a bite, and thinks about how the pumpkins can now be used as a trade off for the Walmart bags Hannibal is about to discover.

“I have carved a great many...” Hannibal pauses, trailing his nose up to Will’s ear before he adds, “Pumpkin.”

Laughing, Will presses himself back against Hannibal’s body, and replies, “I spent seventy dollars at Walmart.”

Hannibal presses his grimace into the warm skin that disappears beneath Will’s coat collar, and slides one cold hand up under Will’s layers to hit bare skin, where he feels Will’s muscles quaking with laughter.

“Ah, fuck,” Will hisses, still giggling - _giggling_ \- as Hannibal pinches the skin below his bellybutton.

Secretly, Hannibal is pleased with the recent turn of events. 

“We are, as I believe you would say, even,” He says anyways, enjoying the feeling of Will’s muscles contracting under his fingers.

Will tilts his head back and they kiss again, despite the corners of his mouth still curving in laughter.

~

Will knows there are some moms in Luca’s kindergarten class that never let their kids watch TV.

He knows mostly because they tell him at every opportunity. Which is good for them, Will thinks, as he starts up a weird cartoon about a seagull and a french fry he finds on french Netflix, but he’s got shit to do and making homemade applesauce with his son is really not one of them.

And anyway, usually when Luca is alternating between gaping at the TV and eating his snack, Hannibal is sitting on the couch reading whatever-the-fuck articles on his tablet. It works out for everyone involved.

Tonight, Will is making brownies, of all the ridiculous things he could be doing, for a Halloween bake sale he didn’t realize he was taking part in until a form came home that included his name in the thank you list. So, boxed brownies it is, he thinks, dumping two boxes of mix into one of Hannibal’s gigantic mixing bowls.

He’s good at making boxed brownie mix. He used to make it a lot in college, even though back then the main ingredient was weed butter.

Hannibal is going to be less than enthused if he finds out Will is feeding thirty small children with two boxes of store bought brownie mix he got in the baking aisle at Walmart. That’s tough shit for Hannibal, though, because Will has a feeling orange and black sprinkles are going to sell a lot better than Hannibal’s burnt himalayan sea salt pastries might.

Also, if Hannibal is going to make a batch of those, Will plans to eat every single one by himself anyways.

“Daddy please can I have an apple,” Luca announces, showing up in the kitchen doorway with one red cheek and big, tired eyes.

Will sets the carton of eggs down on the counter, and wipes one hand off on the thigh of his jeans.

“Sure buddy,” He replies automatically, grabbing an apple off the counter before he slides Hannibal’s knife drawer open. He nods back in the direction of the living room, and adds, “Let’s give the knife to papa, okay?”

Luca nods and pre-emptively heads back towards Hannibal. 

By the time Will arrives a few minutes later, the correct paring knife in hand, Luca has situated himself on Hannibal’s lap. He’s comfortably tucked underneath Hannibal’s arm, and is watching the screen of his iPad curiously.

“Those are so many words,” Luca says to Hannibal, making Will smile.

He watches Hannibal’s expression change from concentration to amusement, too, before he brings one hand up to smooth Luca’s hair back from his face. When Will gets close with the knife and apple, Hannibal leans to set the iPad down on the side table. From this angle, Will can guess it’s some type of medical journal by the document formatting alone.

Hannibal accepts the knife and apple with the same hand, and tells Luca, “One day you will be able to read a great many words, too.”

Will leaves them to it, and goes back to his black market brownies. It takes him ten minutes to mix all of the ingredients into one bowl, and then pour the batter into three different baking pans. The hardest part is trying to remember how to set the oven timer.

By the time he walks back towards the living room, the apple has been eaten and both Hannibal and Luca are equally relaxed in the chair. In the dim of the living room light, their expressions look practically identical as they concentrate on the television in front of them. Will’s heart does something funny when he looks at how they share the same nose and bottom lip.

The whole thing makes Will’s stomach pull tightly, and he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face as he takes the picture in.

 _My family_ , he thinks, and allows himself a private moment.

“Daddy,” Luca finally announces, reaching one hand out in Will’s direction when he notices Will standing there, lurking in the shadows at the edge of their living room.

Will smiles and crosses the carpet, toes sinking into the expensive fiber before he drops into the couch beside Hannibal’s arm chair. He stretches out immediately, groaning deliriously at the feeling of being off his feet and allowing himself to relax into the comfortable, overstuffed cushions.

He fades in and out of the cartoon after that, dozing until the timer beeps on the oven and he groans again. 

There’s a shuffling from the other seat before Will feels the familiar weight of his son being set down against his chest, and then Hannibal brushes the soft pad of his thumb down the bridge of Will’s nose.

“I will set your brownies on the counter to cool,” Hannibal whispers, smoothing a hand down Luca’s already lanky back as the toddler settles more comfortable against Will’s chest, one hand going up to his mouth as he tilts to watch the show around Hannibal. “I will also begin dinner, and ignore the brownie mix boxes in the garbage.”

Groaning again - caught red handed - Will laughs and reaches for Hannibal as he walks away.

He’s pretty sure if he wasn’t around to play cartoons for their family, Hannibal totally would be making homemade applesauce more frequently than he already does.

 _Hannibal should blog,_ is the last semi-conscious thought Will has, before he drifts back to sleep. He’s lulled by the soft sounds of a french speaking seagull talking to a french fry, and Hannibal opening the oven door in the other room.

*

[and I can't sleep](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwS77fWZ8_0)  
[cause you got strange powers](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwS77fWZ8_0)


End file.
